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Scratchworks
Sunday March 12, 2006
I realize of course that this post isn't going to make a lot of sense to some people, and to others they will more than likely think that I'm off my rocker, but I have to write some things just so I can see the words, it makes sorting through all of this crap floating around in my head so much easier. sometimes because of this I don't sleep for a day or two or sometimes even three, so I do get insomnia and it isn't all a load of crap that I'm trying to sell, and to fight it I write... Sometimes a lot.. and sometimes I end up writing the wrong thing and it ends up biting me on the ass, its just that when you need to see the true seriousness of something, you have to poke at it to find out just how bad it really is, and this is getting pretty serious. Yep this is not a blog anymore I think its morphed into something else entirely.. damn it Scratch ! you really have to learn how to leave some things the fuck alone... I need to step back and think about this before I write anything else.. Later my friends... Scratch.
| | Posted by Scratch at 11:09 AM - | |
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Saturday March 11, 2006
Something in the air, won’t let you sleep,
Your eyes won’t close, your brain won’t dream.
How sometimes you feel, your thoughts are scattered,
So you try to focus, but the wells too deep.
Something in the air, leaves you feeling Jaded,
Like your souls draining, all upon the ground.
Tired of trying, to reach for the brass ring,
And feeling stunned, by the lies you’ve found.
And for all of the love, the sex and riches,
And all of those needs, that won’t let you be.
Something in the air, puts you in a panic,
For time is fleeting, from sea to sea.
There’s something in the air, but the world keeps turning,
In controlled precision, spinning around and around.
You want to get off, but life won’t let you,
Its just one of those things, made to confound.
Something in the air, wants you to breathe it in,
To procreate, and engage in sin.
You can not hide, its always there…
Its something in the air.
Scratch.. © 2006. | | Posted by Scratch at 5:27 PM - | |
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You hear the sirens, wet tires scream,
Just down the street, like an echoing dream.
A shot in the dark, in another place,
It seems we are losing, this human race.
For an argument settled, will come to blows,
And for patience lacking, The blood will flow.
For to say one is sorry, is perceived as the weak,
For the strong and the violent, with their deeds they will speak.
How have we survived? Here all in one space,
We just go on fighting, and running in place.
And somehow we’re all different, and yet still the same,
And life keeps on going, as we all play the game.
Scratch. © 2006. | | Posted by Scratch at 11:51 AM - | |
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Friday March 10, 2006
Hey yeah... now THIS is a good hiding place they won't ever thinkin a lookin fer me in an Asylum! yeah.. you and me mr P. they'll be over there knockin on the Tomb door, and we'll be hidin out over here drinkin beer eatin chicken wings and kibble and watchin Numbers on CBS, now for that smoke screen Mr P.....
| | Posted by Scratch at 11:19 PM - | |
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So here we are, we have arrived from our journey across the vast emptiness of time and space, we have treaded lightly on that fragile bridge that lye's between love and pain, here we stand united, shapeless, formless, void of physical embodiment and mind, only soulful words printed on an illuminated page. Often spoken in shout's of anger, and in carefully guarded whisper's of promised undying devotion, we are spoken yet rarely communicated, understood by many, yet actually read by few. We are spoken in pride and vanity, and shouted out in anger and hate, often spoken with blindness disregard to consequence or action, standing always in indifference, completely neutral until applied, here, we are nothing more than words, self perpetuating, never ending, nothing more, nothing less, Words feeding from words, Feed my children, cleanse thy palate and feed...Scratch. | | Posted by Scratch at 7:47 PM - | |
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